


Like A Bee To A Flower

by kahootqueen69



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Francis just wants to warm his toes, James won't let him, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25222393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kahootqueen69/pseuds/kahootqueen69
Summary: Late night/early morning cuddles.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	Like A Bee To A Flower

**Author's Note:**

> I am,,,the worst at thinking of good titles. Apologies.

‘Hmprf.’

The cold feeling at the back of his calves returned.

‘…Stop it.’

He felt the arm slung over his chest and under his arm twitch, a soft tummy pressing a little closer. Again that cold feeling creeping up his legs.

‘Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier. Stop that at once, or I _will_ kick you.’

‘Mmn. No you won’t.’

‘I will.’

‘Won’t.’

‘ _Will._ ’

Francis pressed his toes to the back of James’ legs again.

‘ _Oh,_ you—!’ James jumped, arching his back to try and get away from him, trampling the sheets in the process.

Francis let him slip out of his grasp, chuckling at the way James twisted out of reach from his feet. ‘Won’t even let me warm my toes, what kind of a boyfriend did I end up with, hm?’

‘One that doesn’t like to be woken up by his idiot of a lover’s cold feet.’ James sat up on his knees and grabbed his pillow to hit Francis with it square in the face.

‘Oi!’ Francis spluttered.

A smug grin spread across James’ face, right until Francis got his hands on his waist and pulled him back down on the bed with him, attempting to press his toes to James’ shins.

‘ _No!_ Stop it! Francis Crozier, I’m dead serious when I say I’ll sleep on the sofa if you keep this up.’

‘Alright, alright. I’ll stop,’ Francis chuckled.

He wrapped his arms around James’ back and pulled him on top of his chest, sporting a gentle smile to accompany the soft look in his eyes. Laying on top of him like this, a few strands of hair had fallen in front of James’ eyes, which were always searching Francis’ face with that soft, warm, hazel-coloured gaze. He lifted a hand and brushed some of the hair back behind James’ ear, the tips of his fingers lingering there to eventually cup his cheek, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone in slow, rhythmic strokes.

James ducked his head and pursed his lips, pressing a light kiss to the tip of Francis’ nose. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You’ve got that pensive look on you, which usually means there’s something on your mind. So, what’re you thinking?’

One corner of Francis’ mouth twitched upwards a little, curling into a small smile. James knew him too well. A wonderful feeling, that; being known so well, so thoroughly, by one’s sweetheart.

‘Not much. Just—Thinking about how lucky I am. To have you.’

‘Mmn. To warm your toes on, I’m sure?’

‘Among other things,’ Francis grinned.

‘I see,’ James chuckled in return.

His fingers found their way to Francis’ hair easily, slowly brushing through the soft tufts of blond and grey, which always seemed to have a golden-reddish shine to them when the light hit it just right, lighting up his pale Irish skin with a soft glow in the process. James could never keep his eyes off him during moments like those, his gaze drawn to him like a bee is attracted to a flower and its golden nectar.

There was a thin ray of morning light shining through a crack in the curtains, falling just atop Francis’ ever expressive and never still brows, painting part of him and the room in a gentle orange light. How could James not admire the gorgeous way his eyes sparkled in that light; the light that turned the dark blue of an ocean wave during a storm into the light blue of a calm sea, luring him in like a siren song.

He was vaguely aware of Francis’ voice in the distance, pulling him from his thoughts.

‘Hmm?’

‘I was saying,’ Francis looked at him with a soft, fascinated look, ‘I can practically see those dusty old cogs turning in your mind.’

A light flush made its way across James’ cheeks at the realisation of being observed like that; lovingly. ‘They’re hardly _that_ dusty, Francis dear.’

‘Well alright,’ Francis chuckled. His thumb had never left its spot on James’ cheekbone, and was now brushing away a lash, just under his eye. ‘Penny for your thoughts, then?’

‘Might give it to you in exchange for a kiss,’ James mused.

‘Now how could I say no to that?’

James smiled and ducked his head again, a soft press of lips against lips. Some might call it a chaste little thing, though neither of them needed anything more to feel the love they had for one another. After a moment of exchanging sweet, knowing looks, Francis raised an expectant brow.

A sigh, content; ‘I was just thinking that you look beautiful. Quite irresistible, in fact, with the soft glow of light illuminating you like this.’

A soft intake of breath, Francis’ gaze falling over his face, his eyes, lips. ‘Do I now?’ Spoken softly, almost a whisper.

James looked at him with half-lidded eyes. A nod of the head.

‘I suppose, when spoken by such a creature as lovely as you, those words must be true.’

‘Suppose they must be.’

Francis looked up at him with thoughtful eyes, the pad of his thumb pressing ever so lightly on one of the creases framing James’ lips. The touch of a hand, then; fingertips brushing over the olive-tanned skin of James’ side, gravitating towards the lighter coloured tan line on his hip and over to the dip in his back, where the palm of Francis’ hand pressed against the warm skin, just above the swell of his arse.

James kept watching him with that gentle look, the hint of a smile on the edge of his lips. Turning his head, slowly, gently, he pressed his lips to Francis’ palm, eyes fluttering closed in that elegant way they always did, his lashes brushing over the skin between Francis’ thumb and index finger.

His hand found its way to James’ hair, as long and soft and seeming a golden brown colour as ever it did in this light, letting his fingers comb through it. James leaned into the touch and hummed softly at the gentle way Francis caressed it. He pressed closer to Francis, letting his head rest on his broad shoulder while he brushed through his hair and James looked up at him with that drowsy, loving look in his eyes.

A soft press of James’ lips to his neck. ‘Suppose we could doze for a little while longer?’

‘Suppose we could.’ Francis’ voice, growing thicker with drowsiness and an Irish brogue. ‘I’d rather like to hold you a while longer.’

‘Do you now?’

‘Mmn, I do.’

‘Lucky me, then.’

The soft pressure of a thumb on his lower back, then; Francis starting to trace a slow pattern on his skin, soothing him into a light doze, gently lulling him back to sleep. He dreamed of a bright blue sky, of the wind flowing over his face, the warm sunlight warming his skin. He dreamed of a lover’s embrace and lips brushing over his skin, of grass prickling his neck and bare legs, of the sweet scent of the flowers and homemade orange juice.

He dreamed of Francis.

**Author's Note:**

> I,,,just want them to be Softé.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/kahootqueen69) :)


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